Rust
by pearlsofweird
Summary: Edmund is alone in a world of self-inflicted pain, while a murder and marrige ravages Archenland. Sorry, really rubbish at summaries. WARNING: Dark. Incest. First-time fic.
1. Chapter 1

****

Summary:

**Edmund is alone, in his own world of pain and confusion. Will his siblings be able to pull him out?**

* * *

I dragged the rusted razor blade slowly down the length of my forearm, gazing in a fascinated trance as the dark river of blood, _my_ blood, slid off my sallow wrist to stain the tiled floor underneath my feet. Eventually, the blood seeped away through the cracks in the tiles, leaving an almost imperceptible trace of reddish liquid. None of the cleaning staff here at Cair Paravel would guess that that liquid was blood; they wouldn't even see it. No-body ever did.

I closed my eyes. I could still feel my blood trickling down over my hand; I enjoyed the dark tingling sensation of this self-inflicted pain. I loved it.

It was the sense of boredom, really, that drove me to it. Peace-time Narnia was almost as boring as a Latin lesson on a hot summer's afternoon. Not that I wanted a war-time Narnia, of course; I just didn't expect that ruling a kingdom would be so mundane. Well, no, the ruling itself wasn't mundane; not really. But the same routines, everyday, became so tedious that I just needed an escape. A change.

This was my escape. This was my drug; my high, my exhilaration. I loved it.

I didn't care about the effects it had on my body. Sometimes, though, I worried that Peter or Susan noticed that I was weaker than usual, or much paler. I didn't want them to find out. Lucy was too young and carefree to notice that something was wrong with her big brother, and I did not ever want her to know. The sinister actions of her traitor brother would not tarnish her innocence.

Really, it was ridiculous. I shouldn't be doing this. Just because I was _bored_, I had started cutting myself. For fifteen-odd minutes of short-lived relief.

As just as soon my high had come, it vanished. Now, instead of my euphoria, a cold, depressing feeling of gloom overwhelmed me. It squashed my desire to maim myself further, to add one more cut to the thin ribbons of red already embroidering my ashen wrist.

I had previously had enormous trouble concealing the evidence of my activities. On one (very awkward) occasion, my sleeve of whatever I was wearing had slipped upwards, towards my elbow. Susan, with her ludicrously sharp eyes, had seen the condemning evidence. She had inhaled brusquely and afterwards, when the business at hand had been resolved, she had confronted me in private.

* * *

I had anticipated this, and scarpered. (Or tried to, at any rate.) Susan, however, had anticipated my fleeing, and cunningly cornered me in the corridor outside. I cowered under her surprisingly gentle but reproachful gaze.

"Edmund, explain." Susan whispered in a strong, low voice. However, before I had even opened my mouth to stammer out some feeble excuse for whatever else she was about to reprimand me for, she glanced over her shoulders and escorted me away to her rooms, saying "Follow me." I obeyed this brief instruction without question. I knew that even here, the walls had ears.

Once we reached her receiving parlour, Susan offered me a seat. Seeing no way out of my situation, I reluctantly accepted.

"Now, Edmund." With her usual elegance, she seated herself, re-arranging her skirts over her lap. "Let us talk."

Susan stared at me expectantly.

"What about?" my mouth blurted before I could stop it.

"I think you well know, Edmund." She stated strictly. "I saw what is on your wrist."

"Tell me, Susan; what did you see?" I looked at her, feigning innocence.

"I saw the marks of a knife on the wrist of my younger brother. I saw a young boy tortured by his past. I did not like what I saw, Edmund." Her voice was tinged with sadness.

I could not speak. I had nothing to say.

"I am sorry, Susan." I couldn't meet her blue-eyed stare.

"Oh, Edmund!" Susan, losing her composure, threw her arms around my neck compassionately. "Why? Why, Edmund?" Then, she started crying.

When Susan had calmed down, and had become her normal serene self again, she said: "Edmund, I shan't say a word of this to Peter and Lucy. They don't need to know about this."

But when I had started to thank her for her kindness, she interrupted me.

"But, I shall do so on one condition. That you discontinue this ghastly business forever."

I stared at her in disbelief.

"But…but, what am I meant to do?" I almost wailed. I could find stimulation of this kind no-where else; if I gave up this, then it would be back to the monotonous humdrum of everyday life! And I could not allow _that_ to happen.

"You must find something else. You must stop this!" Susan exclaimed.

* * *

With her words echoing in my head, I repulsed the memories and broken promises haunting me. I could cope with it no longer. With one strangled cry, I impulsively slashed the razor once more across my vein, causing more blood to pour down, over my hands. They looked deadly white compared to the bright crimson blood positively flooding onto the floor.

My head started to spin. I lifted my head up, strangely heavy now, and through half-closed eyes I saw the gilded door handle turn. I heard a voice call out my name.

"Edmund?" said Peter.

* * *

There! A cliff hanger!

Please, please review! If you want me to carry on with my story, tell me so... in reviews! It's my first story, too. I'm planning on doing it either Peter/Edmund, or Edmund/Lucy. What do you think? Sorry the summary's so short.

Thanks!

~PearlsOfWisdom09


	2. Chapter 2

"Edmund?" said Peter.

I saw, through half-closed eyelids that seemed impossibly heavy, that the door was slowly swinging open. Or was it? My brain seemed to be putting things in slow motion. Maybe it was due to the streams of blood that seemed to run eternally downwards.

I saw my brother, High King Peter of Narnia, lurch towards me drunkenly. He seemed to be shouting, bawling my name. Peter grabbed my shoulders and shook me urgently. That was when I realised he was crying.

"Ed? Edmund? Edmund!" Peter sobbed, still shaking me.

"Wh-a-a-t?" my voice came out slurred. I didn't quite understand what was going on.

Now, Peter was screaming over his shoulder, screaming for healers, screaming for Lucy's cordial. When he turned back to me, I stared at him. With a huge effort, I spoke.

"Pete? What…what are you doing? I'm fine, honest-" Then, Peter did the most surreal thing possible in that particular scenario.

He smashed his full, cherry red lips into mine. He kissed me with a passion that I thought unreal. I didn't think that anyone, let alone my brother, could do such a simple action with such fervour.

Of course, I was shocked by this. He was my brother, he wasn't meant to kiss me like this!

But…I cannot deny that I liked it. I loved it. It felt like the feeling I got just after I made a cut on my forearm. It was exhilarating, stimulating, heady. I absorbed the emotions, the physical feelings that this action caused.

But now he broke away. He called my name again; but I couldn't really respond. The edge of my vision started clouding over with black fog, and I passed out.

**That was wubbish, but I decided to post it anyway. Sorry it's a bit short. I made it Peter/Edmund. Anyway, my plea for reviews still stands. Please review! And, Edmund is about 17/18, whichever you think is right. Peter is about 19/20.**

**Tah my darlings!**

**~PearlsOfWisdom09.**


	3. Chapter 3

I looked at his perfect, beautiful face. I looked at the freckles gently dusting his face, deathly pale with the lack of blood in his body. I leaned forward, and I swept back his sweaty black fringe. He stirred restlessly under my administration.

He lies there in the infirmary bed, in an empty ward. He would look dead, if it wasn't for the worryingly slight signs of his breathing.

I gazed at his thin body. Unconsciously, I drifted forward, towards Edmund's bedside. I stood next to him, staring at his limbs, staring at his torso buried under thick linen covers. Now, under close observation, I saw that he has lightly muscled arms, speckled with a just a hint of black hair. His torso and legs are covered by the sheets. I pulled them back curiously.

I studied his body, encased in pyjamas. I bit my lower lip without knowing it. And then I pulled the covers over my brother and walked away.

I walked towards the solid oak doors at the north end of the infirmary. They are edged with carvings. It depicts Narnia how it was before the White Witch's cruel reign; beautiful, filled with 'mythical' creatures, happy and bountiful. These doors in this castle must date back to King Frank's and Queen Helen's time. Edmund would've loved to know that, being the little bookworm that he is. I shall tell him, when he wakes up…

As I reached the doors, they opened. Susan, my least favourite sister, rushed into the ward, with Lucy close on her heels. The entire royal court followed them anxiously.

"Oh, Peter! Is he alright?" Lucy's anxious face, flushed from the effort of running from the throne room to the infirmary, gazed up at me.

Susan, wringed her hands together, muttered fitfully to herself. "Oh, this is my fault; I should've made him stop! I shouldn't have made him promise, what was I thinking? I knew he would just disobey me, but what could I do? Oh, Edmund!" she wailed.

I stared at her. Things were falling into place in my head; I was thinking furiously.

"You mean – you knew about what he was doing?" I couldn't bring myself to say those words. I could feel myself building up to a shouting match.

Susan nodded. Her eyes were wide and fearful.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

I was shaking with anger. My hands were bunched into fists, and my knuckles were turned white.

"We could've stopped this - months ago! He wouldn't be lying there, with no blood in his body, while he fights off death!" I screeched at Susan. Lucy, ignoring our fight, unbuckled the cordial from its leather holder, and ran towards Edmund. She frantically un-stoppered it, and like that moment so many years ago on the battlefield, she poured it carefully into his mouth. A little colour returned to his pallid cheeks. His breathing comes easier. Lucy visibly relaxed.

I and Susan stood our ground. You could've seen the tension crackle between us. We stood in the centre of the infirmary, five feet apart, while Edmund lies in a white linen bed, with Lucy crouched next to him; she looked so scared, but yet so defiant.

"Why didn't you tell me?" My voice was low, menacing. I stepped forward, my eyes never leaving hers.

"Because I promised." Susan lifted her chin defiantly, but the quaver in her voice betrayed her.

I was too furious to say anything. A red mist descended before my vision. I cannot believe that my sister's honour was compromised before my brother's health – did it really matter that much?

I turned to the masses of on-looking courtiers. I had enough rational thought left to send them away from any court scandals.

"Out!" I commanded, pointing at the corridor. They scurried away from the wrath of their High King, leaving Susan to brave it alone. I struggled to contain my anger. I was livid; fuming. Strolling over to a broad window under the pretence of casualness, I deliver the first verbal barb in this war.

"Tell me, Susan, what matters the most; the life of your younger brother, or your honour?"

Susan glared at me in disbelief and indignation. Her plump pink lips were twisted into an unattractive grimace, and her eyes were steely. But I looked harder into her eyes, and I saw a deep, churning ocean of hurt, and betrayal. This cleared my mind, just a bit: but I couldn't stop.

"I can't believe that you didn't tell us! I can't believe that you would let him do that, and not try to stop him! I just can't believe it!" I exploded lividly. "Just because you promised not to tell us!"

Susan, trembling, opened her mouth hesitantly.

"Don't you dare defend yourself! Don't even dare!" I shrieked at her. "You would let him die!"

Susan cowered under my onslaught. She looked terrified; but I also saw a resigned expression mixed with hurt. Through my haze of anger, and I realise now, _hatred_, I felt hands wrap around my upper arms. I barely felt them. I shook them away, like I would bat away flies on a hot summer's day.

Then, I heard a cry behind me. The voice is desperate and heartbreakingly moving. I can hear the sadness woven into every syllable.

"Peter, stop!"

This voice cuts across my infuriated mind. It drained all of my anger from me. My shoulders relaxed, my knuckles and hands flattened out. I blinked my eyes and the magenta mist turns to red, then pink, then it disappears. The fight, the raw anger that pushed me on vanished into itself until it became a tiny ball in the centre of my chest. I can still feel it; it's volatile, like a volcano.

Lucy moved round into my vision. She looked petrified, but still she moved to Susan's side and embraced her. Lucy buried her tear-stained face in Susan's waist. Susan hugged her back, but maintained eye contact with me.

I saw betrayal in her crystalline blue eyes. I saw hurt, and anger, and disgust.

But I also saw hope. And understanding.

Maybe, just maybe, I would be forgiven. And maybe, just maybe, I would forgive her.

Susan turned. She swept out of the infirmary with Lucy dragging at her skirts.

I am left alone.

Well. I think that was my longest chapter so far!!

Word-count for this chapter: 1,043

I wrote this chapter in a different tense, so I apologise for any mistakes.

I don't think that was terribly brilliant. I'll probably say that every chapter, but oh well.

I'm definitely going to carry on with this story now. I have it allllllll planned out, heheheheh…

~PearlsOfWisdom

(Yes, I changed my name. I'll probably change it again to pearlsofweird, my LJ name. You can friend me on there if you have an account too!)


	4. Chapter 4

I peered around the corner, my candle guttering in the draft I created. As quiet as a mouse on very thick carpets, I crept out of the shallow alcove I had been hiding in and tip-toed down the corridor. Halfway down, I passed Susan's room, next to Lucy's.

As I neared the door to her chambers, I slowed down, trying to decrease the noise my clothes made as I navigated the halls of Cair Paravel. I even held my breath. I knew from past experience that Susan was an extremely light sleeper.

Back in England, during the atrocities of the Blitz, before the very first plane had flown over Finchley, she was awake, ushering us all into our Anderson shelter even before the air raid sirens had started. The neighbours knew exactly when a Luftwaffe raid was approaching; all they had to do was listen out for the Pevensie family complaining to Susan about how "the sirens haven't even started yet! C'mon, let us go back to bed!" and "How can you hear things like that? You're a head case!"

I froze. Had I heard something, deep in Susan's chambers?

But no; it was my ears playing tricks on me. Susan hadn't woken up. I walked on, releasing my breath silently. It was a relief that she hadn't woken up. I didn't want her to know where I was going tonight.

I looked at the beautiful paintings hanging on the white marble walls. Most of them had been imported from Calormen on Susan's orders, being as she had commandeered the re-decoration of Cair Paravel after our coronation. Seeing the ferocious glint in her eyes, none of us had been brave enough to wrest back control. She was brilliant at organising parties, social events, decorating, anything - you name it.

I sighed. Thinking of Susan reminded me of the aftermath of our previous argument.

My sister had had nothing to do with me after our fight in the infirmary. She would speak to me only when forced, but even during royal business or ordinary mundane things like breakfast or tea she refused to speak to me. She abhorred being in the same room as me, involved in the same things, anything. We'd had several awkward silences, and several cold, demeaning spats over it.

"Susan, could you pass the butter please?" I said in my politest most grown – up voice.

She ignored me and carried on eating her bread – and – jam.

The whole room seemed to tense up. All eyes were between me and my sister, like a tennis match. Edmund put down his bread slowly. Lucy looked at us anxiously, her eyes wide and unblinking.

"Susan?" I said, a cold tingling feeling beginning at the pit of my stomach.

"Oh, sorry Pete, didn't hear you. What was it you wanted?" These words may've sounded perfectly polite and charming, but they cut me to the bone. Her tone was condescending and cruel, and once again her mouth was distorted into a grimace. It was a malicious parody of her normal exquisite smile.

I put down my supper. I didn't feel hungry anymore.

That was the most recent quarrel we'd had. But deep in my heart, I knew there was more quarrelling to come.

However, I repulsed these unpleasant memories and focused my mind on the task at hand; making my way to my destination, the infirmary.

I had to see Edmund again. And since going anywhere near the infirmary attracted the attention of either my siblings or anxious courtiers or subjects, I had resorted to good old fashioned subterfuge; or, in plain English, doing some rather neat deception. I crept around after everyone'd gone to bed, just for a few minutes alone with my sleeping brother.

I didn't go near him in the day. I couldn't; regal responsibilities prohibited me.

I resented that. I resented that I couldn't see my _own brother_ because I had to sort out some stupid little squabble for people who couldn't sort it out themselves, or some great matter of state. Sometimes, being a High King, with that title's responsibility, just made me so _angry_.

I was getting closer to the infirmary now. I could smell the faint scent of herbs, mixed with the sweet flowery fragrance of jasmine.

There! A short distance away, the robust form of the carved wooden doors emerged out of the gloom of night. I had reached my objective.

I blew out my candle impatiently and then dumped it on the nearest flat surface: a small Galmanian ornamental table. Someone would find in the morning.

Quickening my pace to a frantic jog I reached the infirmary. The scent of herbs grew stronger, so much so that I could distinguish rosemary and thyme from the heady mix of intoxicating aroma filling the air around me. Inhaling deeply, I pushed open the heavy doors. The hinges made no sound; they were well – oiled as to not disturb the patients from their fevered rest.

Suddenly I felt nervous. A deep panic resonated through my heart and belly. Why was I doing this? I was High King; couldn't I just order some time off to visit my brother? It was unlikely that I wouldn't get what I want, so there was even less reason to skulk around at night!

Then it hit me.

It was more fun to do it this way, rather than take time out of my schedule to visit the infirmary. Normal life was so boring, so repetitive, I wanted a thrill. This was my thrill. It would not last forever, though, but when it did I would find something else to do.

Unlike Edmund.

Edmund had had his thrill. His definitely couldn't last forever. But Edmund didn't want to find something new, or there was just nothing else that interested him. He didn't want to move on.

_But he had to._

And me and Susan and Lucy would help him with that.

But now I needed to stop worrying about that, and get on with what I was there for. I didn't feel quite as panicky as I did before.

I snuck into the long, empty ward. The beds were made up, ready for any patients that needed a bed. A few even had fresh flowers in glass vases on the bedside table. That must've been the aroma of jasmine that I could smell, I realised.

Edmund had been moved into another bed, the day after my brief verbal skirmish with Susan, with a bit more privacy from the rest of the ward. It was positioned at the far end of the ward, with a pre – assembled wall of wood surrounding it. The wall had a crude door at the east side, which was locked with a key that only a few select people had a copy of. Those people were me and my family, the royal nurse and royal physician. I had had the foresight to bring this key along with me. I used it now.

The door slid open shakily. I saw, lying still as a corpse, my brother. Edmund.

Every time I saw him it was a shock. I still couldn't believe that he was still a fully functioning human being after what he had been through.

I crossed the floor like a ghost. I didn't want to wake him.

From the light of the moon, I could see that his freckles were fading with the lack of sunlight. His skin was even paler than usual, his black hair glossy in the moonlight. As I examined him further, I noticed the dark grey - black circles under his eyes. He looked exhausted.

Edmund's hand lay on the bedcovers next to his hip. Surprising myself, I leaned forward and grabbed his hand. It was icy cold, but strangely, it emitted gentle warmth. I wondered why.

As I pondered the possible theories, I did not notice that Edmund's brows had knitted together; his skin had become sweatier and flushed with a faint redness. His muscles contracted and relaxed. His hand released itself from my grip, coming to rest beside his head.

I stared at Edmund with increasing anxiety. He seemed to be getting more and more agitated, and I could do nothing to stop it. I tried shaking him, whispering his name, everything. He wouldn't wake up.

Now I was becoming extremely distressed. I held his wrists in both hands, whilst trying to soothe him. I murmured lullabies in his ear. I did everything I could.

Then Edmund started to whimper, over and over again. "Peter!" he cried. He sounded like he was suffering, in terrible pain. "Peter!" he cried again.

"Shush, Ed…It's alright, I'm here." I soothed.

"Peter…" At this he calmed down considerably. His breathing turned to normal, and his brows flattened out.

It was then I noticed I was crying. Tears were streaming down my face onto Edmund's hands. I made no attempt to wipe them away.

Edmund's eyes fluttered open.

"Peter?"

There, another cliff - hanger!

Tell me how you liked it.

~PearlsOfWisdom


	5. Chapter 5

"Peter?" Edmund repeated. He stared up at me from the pillow with tired eyes.

My mind was blank. What could I say to make this seem appropriate? Obviously, Edmund would question why I had chosen this ungodly hour of the night to visit him in his sickbed, instead of coming to see him at a decent hour, like everybody else, but I hadn't thought about that. I just didn't know what to say.

Luckily, Edmund saved me from making a complete twat of myself, as usual.

"Why haven't you come to visit me before?" He said quietly. I could see the hurt in his eyes, feel it in the harmonics of his voice. He sounded lonely.

"I have." I said, taking myself by surprise. I frowned then, at the disobedience of my own voice. "I mean, I have come to see you, but you were never awake."

Edmund sat up now, a frown creasing his pearly white forehead. He shifted away from me onto the opposite side of the narrow bed. The covers wrapped around his legs, tangling them. I hadn't noticed how gangly he had become.

"Then why didn't you wake me?" He muttered, staring me out like a cat.

When I didn't say anything he pounced, delivering his blow like a master.

"I've been waiting here, Aslan knows how long, for you and Susan and Lucy to come and see me! Do you know how _boring_ it's been? I hate it! I can't do anything, I can't exert myself, which means not even being able to read a book, or anything like that! It's like a prison in here!" Edmund exploded.

I gaped at him. Edmund rarely let go of his emotions like that. Then an idiot's grin spread like treacle across my face. I started to laugh. Edmund ogled at me, incredulity written all over his face. He blinked slowly at me.

"Why are you laughing?" he demanded.

This question just made me laugh even more. I began to guffaw raucously, holding my sides. Edmund pouted at me, crossed his arms, and frowned. He looked so comical sitting on his bed in his pyjamas that I just couldn't stop.

Whenever I managed to quell my laughter, the sight of Edmund looking at me with a straight deadpanned face just made me cackle insanely even more.

"It's just that – you sound so annoyed – it's hilarious!" I managed to gasp out between breathless pants of merriment.

"Well, you may find this very funny, but I for one _don't_. Oh it's alright, go ahead and _laugh_, but I shan't sit here at _your expense_ to be made a _mockery_ of!" With that heavily italicised paragraph, he twirled around on the bed and sat with his back to me.

A few moments later, when I had decided to finally stop laughing, I climbed onto the narrow bed beside him and perched there in silence. He still looked enraged.

"I'm sorry, Ed." I apologised with a smile suppressed upon my face.

He avoided the apology, and instead caught me with a complete bombshell of a question. It hypothetically knocked me off my feet. I was stunned. Literally.

"Why did you kiss me, Peter?" Edmund blurted out. His voice was curious, questioning. He looked at me from underneath his fringe and his long, think eyelashes. Edmund's peat black eyes bored into my pale blue ones.

I was astounded. What with lack of sleep, worry, and uncomfortable arguments, I had completely forgotten about my irresponsible actions earlier in the week. What could I say to him?

My heart rate speeded up. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears. Everything went blurry apart from Edmund's beautiful face.

Wait – what? Beautiful? Where did that come from? Edmund was my brother, and I should definitely not be thinking about him like this!

But a little treacherous voice in my head added more adjectives to him:

_Edmund isn't just beautiful, is he? He is gorgeous, dazzling, stunning…the list could go on. You know it could._

This inner monologue did nothing for my cracked nerves or the dire predicament I was facing. It made me think thoughts that one should not think about one's own brother.

"It's just that I was thinking about it, while I was stuck here, I mean, and it never really made sense. I was dying, wasn't I? Kind of. So it may've been desperate, mightn't it? I don't know, but that was the most likely theory I could think of. And I thought about it a lot, what with being stuck here while I recovered, because I had nothing else to do. And another thing –"

He could've carried on babbling like a manic for the next twenty minutes, but unfortunately (for him) I jumped away from him, my eyes wide.

I was cornered. Every ancient instinct screamed deep within me to _get away_, to run from this burning humiliation. Perspiration trickled like a small stream down my back. I rolled my neck on my shoulders, trying to soothe a non-existent ache, while my hand fidgeted around with my hair. I was so nervous, so self – conscious of my previous actions.

"Um…" I muttered, my eyes darting around the small makeshift room. Chair, bed, _Edmund_, floor, chair, bed, _Edmund_, floor…

__"Look…I'll see you in the morning, yeah?" With that murmured statement, I left the ward. I sprinted back to my room, my feet finding the way in the dark halls. I didn't know I was heading for disaster.

So. There we have it.

Sorry it's been so long, and that was really short, but life catches up with you sometimes.

I don't blame you if you never read my stuff again. That was really crap. My favourite line, however, was this:

_It made me think thoughts that one should not think about one's own brother_.

Hee hee.

Anyhoo, bye bye my darlings!

~PearlsOfWisdom


	6. Chapter 6

I was annoyed, forlorn, confused. Distressed, tormented, and worried. There were thousands of adjectives that described my turbulent emotions, but these were the ones I liked best. Well – there were the only ones I could think of at the moment. But that didn't matter.

Why had Peter ran away? Yes, he may've been faced with an incredibly awkward (not to mention embarrassing) question, but I had never know Peter to run away from anything. Even when we were children in the playground of our childhood schools, he had never chosen to back away from a fight or from a difficult situation. The same was now in Narnia; in any battle, against any foe (however fearsome) you could rely on him to be there; to look after you in the darkest of times. He was my big brother, and he acted like one.

Why wasn't he acting like that now?

He had backed away from a fight. For the first time, he had backed away and left it. That didn't lower him in my eyes, but it certainly made me think. Was my brother not the hero I had thought he was? I didn't know.

All I knew that he had run.

And I had to chase him. I needed that question answering. Not now; but soon. Very soon.

* * *

Right, a little bit of angst there, just to make everything more interesting. That was just a tiny little filler chapter there, I hope you don't mind. Please review; I love it when you review. Love, love, love it. Has anyone seen that advert? I have. You may've guessed. Anyway.

Tank you (in an Irish accent) for all the reviews so far, by the way.

Byeeeeeeee!

~PearlsOfWisdom


	7. Chapter 7

My heart was pounding against my ribcage. Oxygen briefly passed into my lungs and escaped again as easily as it entered them. Black dots danced before my eyes, my muscles ached, my brain beat out an unrelenting rhythm against my skull. I could not go on any longer; but I did. I had to get away.

I didn't care what noise I made. My feet, calloused from many hours combat training with my generals, thrashed the rich carpet and my breath echoed around the marble corridor, produced a thousand re-creations of my wheezing breath. They carried on for what seemed like forever.

I ran. I ran like a cornered wolf facing an angry village. I had to get away; far away, if not now, at least in the morning, when I could sneak out of the castle easily. Well – not easily, but it would be worth it. Give me something to take my mind off my burning embarrassment, my humiliation, my shame. Something exciting to do would do me good, I thought.

I was reaching my rooms now. I slowed down, my breath rattling in my lungs. Collapsing against the wall, I clunked my head backwards, bashing the back of my skull forcefully onto the marble. The elegant tapestries did practically nothing to cushion my head.

I groaned at my latest representation of my continuous ill luck. The last pangs of sharp, fiery pain pinged around my head before settling into an incessant ache of dull, throbbing pain what I was sure that would not go away until I had taken drastic measures, like sneaking a cunning drop of Lucy's cordial. Susan would give me hell if she found out that I had "stolen from the needy and wanting who need it far, far more than you". Susan, as you may've guessed, had very strong views on this sort of thing. I didn't blame her; Narnia was full of the survivors of the White Witch's cruel reign and the battle for Narnia's freedom. Susan's compassion and kindness forced her to care for these victims in every way; she even brought them into the castle's infirmary so Lucy, her cordial and the royal medics could help them easily. Susan would do anything to help anyone around her, and for that Peter loved her.

Unfortunately, it is an unwritten law of the universe that everyone, however kind, or loving or compassionate or friendly has a dark side. In Susan, her dark side was represented in a strict sense of the rules, an incredibly huge capacity for very boring knowledge (this, I think she had picked up from Edmund) and a terrible sense of vanity, which she thankfully kept to herself. Most of the time, anyway.

I closed my eyes, and I must've fallen asleep for at least a few hours, sitting there on the fluffy carpet. When I abruptly woke up, the feeble light of dawn was shining weakly into my face. A few minutes and a pair of bleary eyes later, I was half – awake. Awake enough to take stock of the situation, and to realise that the inhabitants of Cair Paravel would soon be waking up and finding me, their High King, sprawled against a wall with sleep in his eyes.

Staggering up onto my feet, I blinked fuzzily, trying to clear my eyes. Then I lurched the few hundreds yards to my room and slammed the door, hard enough to ensure my wakefulness, but soft enough to prevent anyone (apart from Susan, of course) hearing me.

I reeled my way drunkenly around my bedchamber, my eye lids drooping. I managed to (gently) crash into a chair and the wardrobe before wobbling my way to the extravagant canopied bed. I climbed inside the dark haven of my embroidered quilt before falling into a deep, deep slumber.

A few hours later, I groaned again at my bad luck. Lucy had taken it upon herself to rouse me cheerfully from my rest – meaning that she had darted into the room unannounced and then ripped the thick curtains away from the windows to flood the room in a golden light: then jumping (not for her own enjoyment, oh no) repeatedly onto my stomach. She was laughing with all the delight of a little sister tormenting her older brother who, no matter what she does, will love her until the day he dies. Lucy knew this fact very well, and took advantage of it; she relished all the sibling tormenting opportunities that came from it.

"Peter, Peter wake up, wake up! Susan wants to speak to you! C'mon, wa-ake u-up!" Lucy screamed this at the top of her lungs, still bouncing all over me.

"Don't make me repeat it!" She warned, sitting back and crossing her arms.

At this point, I was struggling to retain the oxygen in my lungs, which had been bounced out of me by a small fifteen – year – old.

"Peter…" She let her voice trail off into a menacing silence. I could see that this silence encompassed more sibling – torture, as well as one very bounced Peter in the near future if I did not get up _right now._

I got up hurriedly. Nothing on this earth is worse than little sister retribution.

"Yes, Peter, now get dressed." Lucy said in the tones of one who has got the power and knows exactly how to use it. She turned away to preserve the innocence of her eyes.

I obediently pulled on my rust – red tunic, brown jodhpurs and my leather boots. I finger combed my tousled dark blonde hair into a presentably messy style before fastening my tunic together over my chest. When I had deemed myself presentable, I turned around and asked Lucy what she thought. She nodded, walked around me and straitened the creases in my tunic. I rolled my eyes good – naturedly at her behaviour.

Then she took me by the hand, and chattering like a squirrel, she led me to our throne room. I nodded amicably to the guards on the door (a faun and a jaguar) and the great glass doors were opened from the inside. They glided smoothly apart on oiled hinges, to reveal Susan lounging on her throne, next to mine. She was talking to some of our advisors and as we approached she dismissed them.

"Ah, Peter." I had a bad feeling about this.

"Good morning, Susan. I trust you slept well?" I murmured politely. I stared at a point approximately two feet above her head. I still had not forgiven her our argument.

"Well enough thank you Peter. I don't suppose Lucy has told you about the nature of our meeting?"

We both looked at Lucy, but she addressed Susan.

"No, I thought you would tell him." She stated boldly, almost challenging Susan. I briefly wondered if they too had had some sort of argument but I couldn't think for the life of me why.

"Well, Peter," – She turned her attention back to me – "We need to talk."

"About what, dear sister?"

"We need to talk about Edmund, Peter."

What? Why would we need to talk about Edmund? I don't suppose that Susan had spoken to him about last night…Would Edmund do that? Would he tell her about our private affairs, for lack of a better word?

"Lucy, haven't you got your lessons soon? Don't you need to prepare for them?" Susan said in syrupy tone whilst still staring at me.

Lucy, with one uncertain glance at me, nodded and scampered away.

"Why do we need to talk about Edmund?" Despite the seriousness of the situation, I found myself curious.

"I'm forbidding you from seeing him."

After what seemed like an age, I found it within myself to speak.

"Why do you think you can do that? He's my brother too, Susan."

"We found him this morning, crying in his sleep, moaning _your_ name, Peter. Why your name?" She hissed.

"I…I don't know." I muttered. I was tired. So tired.

"I don't know, either, Peter. He wouldn't tell us. So I thought, and thought…and when I had finished thinking I came to a conclusion: you must've hurt him in some way. And I don't want you to hurt my little brother anymore Peter. I want you to stop."

"So I can't see him?" I croaked.

"Yes." She looked triumphant.

"And why do you think that just forbidding me from seeing him will stop me seeing him, Susan? Why do you think that your authority overrides mine? _I_ can stop _you_ seeing him, because I'm the High King. _You_ can't stop _me_, Susan."

"Oh, but I can." She sat back in her chair. "You will be under house arrest until Edmund recovers. And that is the end of the matter."

I was dismissed.

I was crushed.

I was angry.

I spoke clearly. "Susan, if you deem me unfit to visit my brother, then I shall not visit him. I will respect your wishes in this matter, but believe me; I shall not forgive you this offence. You will regret this decision one day, Susan, and then you will apologise. But for now, I will leave you to your petty decisions and your vanity, and your jealousy. Goodbye, my sister; I love you."

With that, I left the throne room, not looking behind me once. I had left my sister behind, in a different world entirely.

Drama or what, eh?

Just so you know:

Jodhpurs are English riding trousers. They're clingy and made out of a thick, soft material.

I forgot to mention that the Pevensies can remember pretty much everything that happened to them before the wardrobe incident.

I was really tired when I wrote this, so the ending deteriorated somewhat. Sorry! But tell me what you think anyway.

~pearlsofweird


	8. Chapter 8

All plans of escape had been flushed from my mind with Lucy's sibling – torture and Susan's petty words; but now they flooded back with renewed clarity and I was more determined than ever to carry them out. I strode towards my chambers with a relaxed manner disguising my turmoil of emotions, whilst I carefully planned these preparations and filed them away in my head. One thing, however, was brilliantly clear in my mind – and that was the fact that Susan had placed a house arrest on me. An informal one, but nevertheless I was sure that Susan (being the efficient and thorough person that she was) would've had the warrant for it written and formalized immediately. This meant that I had to escape as soon as possible, and be as cunning and as stealthy about it as I possibly could.

I stepped out with a new confidence – I had a cunning plan, and it would work. I was sure of that.

But first: I had some things to do. First on the list was visiting Lucy and telling her of my plan. Then I would head back to my chambers and prepare my things for departure and write a note to Susan. I would inform her of my course of action, telling her that I would be safe and well, and that I would be back soon. She would be livid when I returned from my 'adventure', but it would certainly be worth it. Anyway; I would probably obtain at least some brotherly enjoyment from her predictable rage.

Last on the list was visiting Edmund. I had to ask him whether or not he had betrayed me, involuntarily or on purpose. Curiosity burned a dark hole in my mind; whilst anger and fear simmered in my heart. I was irrationally afraid that he had betrayed me, but I knew that Ed wouldn't knowingly give me away, not after what the White Witch had tricked him into divulging. However, this knowledge was of little comfort to me, as it was a fragile detail which I wasn't entirely sure of. But instinct led me to believe that my brother would not sacrifice me again, not after the terrible consequences of his previous behaviour unfolded before him. Edmund was loyal, and true, deep to the very core, and once he realised his mistakes, he would not often commit them again.

So. Telling Lucy. Shouldn't be too hard.

_Shouldn't be too hard._ Hahahaha.

What an idiot. So naïve, so stupid. Why, oh why, did I think that telling my adoring, doting, loving, admiring, valiant little sister that I was going away for quite possibly a very long month or so was going to be _easy_?

She cried. She tried not to, the poor little girl, but she couldn't help herself. Well –I was abandoning her. No wonder she was crying. I was her big brother, the one she looked up to for guidance, and protection and that love and care that only comes of being a big brother. Now I was leaving her with an invalid brother, a suddenly very unkind sister and overwhelming masses of duties, lessons, and stressing situations to deal with alone. Susan and I were the closest thing to parents that she had, and we both had left her. Temporarily, perhaps; but it was going to be a very long time for her.

I suddenly felt so, so angry with the world. How could it be so unfair to a young, innocent girl of fifteen? How could Aslan let such a thing happen to such a sweet youthful individual? I shook my head with the unfairness of it all.

However, I forced myself to think calmly, and carried on with my metaphorical checklist.

So: first thing done. Now – preparing myself for the journey ahead and writing a note to Susan.

After consoling my favourite sister, I had returned to my rooms. Now, I gazed around the messy dressing chamber that constituted my wardrobe, and sighed. Where to start?

Well. First things first, I assume. I need a good strong satchel, but lightweight enough to carry all my travelling things easily. Then I would pack a simple change of clothes; a clean linen shirt, fresh jodhpurs and a thick jerkin for nights. A blanket, too, and a small linen bag to hold victuals and the like. I would wear my cloak, the blue one that Susan and Lucy wove as a gift for me last winter. Hopefully, it would help to disguise my appearance, which would give away my status and whereabouts. Finally, I took up Rhindon, resplendent in its red and silver scabbard, from its place of honour on the wall below a life – sized effigy of Aslan, and buckled it to my waist.

Gazing into his painted amber eyes, I kissed my fingertips, and then brought them to his glorious face. I was sure that I was doing the right thing. Aslan had told me so.

Right – now to write to Susan.

I chuckled maliciously. This should be good, I thought.

Something nice and polite to start with, and then breaking the bombshell later on, but with certain frostiness about it. That would probably irk her slightly; which would mean that the consequences would be harsher. But I didn't mind. The future seemed an incredibly long time away.

I sat down, gathered my parchment and quill together and started to write.

_Dear Queen Susan,_

_I regret to inform you that I will be taking a short leave from both Cair Paravel and thus my duties. Therefore, I shall be delegating every last one of my kingly duties to my beloved sister, Queen Lucy the Valiant. She will have full reign over the entire country of Narnia, Ettismoor, the Lone Islands, Cair Paravel, the Seven Isles, Galma and Terebinthia. She will be in control at all times of the throne. Any usurpers of this power will be punished in due course of my return, in the traditional manner. _

_Queen Lucy is under solemn oath to hold herself to the chivalries, duties, oaths, every and all responsibilities of being Acting High Queen. She will rule the country until my return, upon which I shall resume my position of High King._

_I hope this is in accordance with your wishes._

_Peter the Magnificent, High King of Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, and crowned by Aslan our Lord to the Clear Northern Sky. Written upon the ninth day of June, in the fifth year of Narnia's Golden Age._

That last line was pure gold, honestly it was. She would be so annoyed at that, especially when she had placed me under house arrest earlier that very day. And the titles were a nice touch too.

Leaving the note on my four – poster bed and picking up my satchel, I departed from my chambers, and moved stealthily into the corridor. No – one was about, which was odd; normally, at this time, everyone would be heading in one direction – to the Great Hall, for lunch. I suppose Susan might have held a gathering, to inform the masses of my imprisonment…But what would she say to them, that I had apparently hurt King Edmund the Just so I wasn't allowed to see him? I don't know. Susan had probably thought of something scandalous just to spite me, because for all her gentleness she could be a right dog of the female persuasion at times. And that's putting it politely.

Now. I had to see Edmund.

As I paced my way towards the infirmary (where Edmund was still being 'imprisoned') I pondered the immediate future.

What was going to happen?

Would he react violently, or would he remain composed when I told him I was leaving? I didn't know. I was panicking. What was I going to say to him? "Sorry, Ed; I need to get out for a while. Susan's bugging me, blah di blah di blah. Will you cover for me?" I could hardly do that, could I? Oh, blast it all!

I couldn't think in this state – I was too upset. Wouldn't it be easier if I could just, ooh I don't know, not tell him in person?

I stopped still I was so struck by my genius. My jaw dropped. I very nearly slapped my forehead with my hand, but I stopped myself before I succumbed to the cliqué. It was so obvious; why hadn't I seen it before? I could just write him a note, like I did for Susan. It wouldn't be as informal as Susan's note, but much friendlier. I had left my writing equipment in my study, so I turned around and jogged back to my chambers.

When I returned to my chambers, I once again gathered my parchment and quill and started to write.

_Dear Edmund,_

_I'm going. I don't know where, and I don't know when I'll come back. I'm only really going to spite Susan; you may've heard about my house arrest that Susan's placed on me. I don't know why she's done that, but she may tell you. When I've gotten back, maybe you'll tell me?_

_I've left Lucy in charge. I know you'll help her rule in my place, and I know you'll understand why I didn't leave you in charge. _

_I hope you'll forgive me. And I love you._

_Your brother, Peter._

It seemed a bit brusque, really. But I didn't think that Ed would mind, not much; he was so laid back, and understanding. He would be alright.

Now – to make my escape. I had to negotiate through a maze of guards and then make my way stealthily to the stables, where I would saddle my warhorse. Then, I would canter unseen through Cair Paravel (well, maybe seen, just to annoy Susan) and make a dramatic and thoroughly brilliant exit from the royal residence.

I beamed, just with my own brilliance.

And I realised I had been right – I was having fun. I had forgotten pretty much everything what with the whole Boy – Scouts-yness of it all. I felt giddy and overwhelmingly happy.

Without hesitation, I once again took up my satchel and sword, and left my apartments. I crept along the luckily still deserted corridors, my hand resting on my sword hilt. I would defend my freedom from anyone who threatened it; and that included any Narnians. But I would not kill them, which I was sure of.

Finally, after many minutes of endless creeping, I gave up and speedwalked.

I got to the stables quite a bit quicker, too.

Well. That was absolutely crap, wasn't it?

Honestly, I mean it. It wasn't very good, was it? But it was quite long, which kind of makes up for it.

And, by the way: WE WON SLOVENIA.

So I've just lost any Slovenian readers I may've had. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. The chapter, I mean.

NEARLY 2,000 WORDS, PEOPLE!

Tell me what you think, whether it is to stop writing this terrible story or keep calm and carry on.

~pearlsofweird =)


	9. Chapter 9

I reached the stables just as the midday lunch bell rang. This meant that everyone would be detained from their obligation of duty for at least another forty – five minutes, which meant that I could tack up my stallion, Typhon, and ride from the Cair.

A tingling sense of excitement, happiness and freedom flooded through my body, making the hair on my arms raise, and my body relax. I was free, I could do what I liked, and this would be an adventure. It would be fun to have a holiday from my regal life, with all the stresses and pressures of the Royal Narnian Court. 

I whistled as I fetched my saddle, numnah and bridle from the tack room. I carried them over to Typhon, who was still in his stable, nosing impatiently at his empty haynet. I plonked the saddle and numnah down onto the half – door, whilst fiddling absent – minded with the bolt on the door, the bridle swinging on my arm. Slotting the top bolt back, and kicking the bottom bolt back too, I made low clicking noises with my tongue, and pushed against Typhon's chest and shoulders, encouraging him to reverse. Then, I took up the saddle and numnah and heaved them onto Typhon's withers. I tightened the girth – just enough to keep the saddle stable on his back, and then inserted the iron bit gently into his mouth. I finished putting his bridle on, and looped the reins over his head and neck. Typhon snorted into my face and blew lightly over my hair. I rolled my eyes and pushed my hair back into its normal messy style.

Then I led the bay stallion out of his stall, nudging the door closed with my boot.

I led the stallion out into the main yard, tightened the girth of his saddle, and vaulted into the saddle. I adjusted the stirrups and took up the reins. I urged Typhon into a gentle trot, and trotted through the yard, to the castle gateway. Strangely, there were no guards on the gargantuan gateway, and the dangerously sharp portcullis was up. However, there were guards of my battalion posted as sentries on the castle walls. These were unnecessary, since Cair Paravel was almost impregnable because of its position on a coastal cliff, but it made the place look more formal.

Surely my own army would not turn against me? Susan could not order them to, nor could she ask her own guards to attack me purposefully. Each ruler had a battalion of guards at their own disposal; almost like a bodyguard, or a sect of warriors solely at the respective ruler's command. They were hand – picked from children and trained all throughout their lives to become ruthless but merciful warriors, who upheld an oath to protect their commander until death. They adored their separate commander, and would do anything for them. But one condition of the Oath that they held meant that even if their leader ordered them to attack another royal, they could not. Anyone who disobeyed this rule was disbanded from that battalion, and was banished, because anyone who was prepared to do that was far too dangerous to live around in the court, or indeed, around any Narnian. The kind of sect depended upon the personality and moral scruples of the commander in question; for instance, Lucy's guards were much like the British bobbies (helping to make your area safer, for YOU), whereas Susan's guards were mysterious, and secretive: and they made it well known that they kept themselves to themselves and no more questions would be asked, thank you very much. They had the best insignia on their shields, though; a product of Susan's vanity, possibly. Nobody really knew very much about Edmund's guards, but it was generally agreed that they were more than a little bit odd. And good things tended to evaporate around them. Maybe they were scared.

Even Susan's (or Edmund's) guards would not disobey the Oath, though. Or would they?

I doubted it. Even Susan had her honour. That much had been proved, at Edmund's expense.

That thought made the anger in my heart boil over just for a second, my chest tightened, and then it was gone. It wasn't that it had disappeared entirely; but it seemed that it was becoming more controllable, without losing any of its fiery passion, and without losing any of its solid determination.

I halted Typhon gently whilst I considered the possibilities of my own soldiers turning against me. Certainly, it was a definite possibility that Susan had ordered them to, maybe even bribed them, but my soldiers were loyal and completely devoted to me. It would take an incredulously large bribe to convince them. Even Susan could not manage that.

Deciding on the easiest course of action, I walked Typhon forward again, and through the gates. I was not challenged but merely hailed as the High King, questioned, and sent on my way with the best wishes of the guards. They had heard of the house arrest, and thought it ridiculous and petty. Susan had sullied her reputation with that unreasonable demand, and lowered herself in the eyes of the populace. I was troubled at that; Susan had always been so kind and fair. I had a feeling that something odd was going on with our Gentle Queen.

Thanking my guards, and promising them that they would be rewarded for their loyalty, I urged Typhon into a trot down the twisting paved road to Castle Town. There, I pulled my hood over my face, and slowed to a walk. I took the route around the outskirts of the town, avoiding the majority of the crowds of mixed humans and Talking Animals. Ever since the beginning of our reign, more humans had moved over from Archenland, Calormen, Galma, etc. so we constructed a village for them, suitable for both animals and humans. This had had rapid growth into a town, and soon, a city.

Soon I was out of Castle Town, and into the wide open fields split in two by the Great River of Narnia. They stretched on into the horizon for as far as the eye could see, forever and forever it seemed. Now I felt free, and invigorated; with the fields surrounding me I felt a huge recklessness surge up within me and I spurred Typhon into a trot, then a canter, then a gallop. I whooped with joy as I rose out of my saddle.

I was free!

Free from the veiled tyrannical reign of my sister, from my stressful job of High King, eldest brother and general dependable person! Free!

I felt as if the spirit, the very essence of the open fields before me, had filled me up from head to toe. A heady feeling of delicious happiness overwhelmed my senses, making me light – headed. The feeling of lifted responsibility mixed with the euphoria of being free made a delectable elixir of perfect emotions.

When I had regained my senses from the ecstatic feeling of joy, I slowed Typhon down to a slow, ambling walk. We enjoyed the beautiful scenery that stretched around us for miles as we plodded on towards a nearby copse of birch trees.

**O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0**

"What? What did you say to me?"

Susan growled in a low voice. The hapless parliament of Narnian councillors shivered in their ornately carved wooden seats.

The tension in the room noticeably raised by several mountains' worth as no-one dared to answer Susan's threatening question.

"I said…_what you say to me_?"

As nobody answered Susan immediately, she swept out of her throne, and whirled around the Hall. Her face was twisted into a violent grimace.

"Am I too insensible to be told what is happening in my own kingdom? Am I too light – headed to be depended upon, or too stupid? No! I would think not; but obviously you think so, since you cannot be bothered to tell me what I should rightfully know about _my own brother_!" Susan ended this explosion of eloquence with a glare that should've supernova'd into burning pools of blue wizard fire.

The room turned into a shivering gibbering mass of sweating blobs.

However – the most brave (or idiotic, or stupid) councillor of them all decided that the question was to be answered, and he was the talking squirrel to do it.

"Well, your Majesty;" - Here he leapt up onto the table in front of him – "we've let your royal brother, Peter, escape."

At this condemning statement, all other councillors sat completely, utterly still. Not a muscle twitched in a stressed face; nor did a feather rustle. Everything, everyone was still, silent: waiting.

Susan stared. She glared with clear blue eyes that would've looked absolutely ravishing on any other day. Any other day, at least.

It was terrifying. She said nothing for at least half a minute; one of the weaker – minded Narnians even fainted. He couldn't take the tension.

Silence reigned in the Hall.

Susan, appearing bored with her terrifying methods, decided to take a different approach. She calmly walked back to her throne, and sat down on it. She spent a few seconds re – arranging her skirts about her, and then sat up straighter than a poker, her hands resting in her lap. Her eyes were gazing directly in front of her, at the great masterpiece of masonry that spread out over the back wall of the Hall. It looked like the tremendous outburst of a few minutes before had never happened.

"Due to your incompetence as part of the Royal Narnian Council, my brother, High King of all Narnia, has now left the confines of Cair Paravel, whilst under a strict house arrest. He knows that he has done wrong, by disobeying this order. He knows the consequences of his actions, and he knows that while he refuses to return to Cair Paravel, he will be searched for, and he will be found. No harm shall come to him by any human, or beast. He will be treated with the utmost respect that a High King of Narnia deserves, even though his actions should have condemned this privilege. You will organise and send out these search parties, which shall be a combination of all the Royal Battalions, and the castle's militia. I expect Peter to be found within the next month. You are dismissed."

When Susan had finished speaking, the council rose and bowed, then left. Overlings could be heard giving underlings strict orders to formulate the search parties, and then the underlings scurrying off to complete these orders.

The search parties would be out before nightfall.

Susan relaxed in her chair. She had done what she had been asked to do. Now all she had to do was wait.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

This chapter was a bit Susan – bashy, wasn't it? Also, the characters were completely out of canon too. I'm sorry for my terrible writing.

Anyway; I kept on going with this chapter! And none of you even reviewed the last one, so my levels of motivation were dangerously low. I fell out with you for that, y'know.

No, no, I'm only joking. I love you really, honest ;D

Do tell me what you think, darlings ;D

~pearlsofweird ;D


	10. Chapter 10

I spent that night underneath a small lean-to of birch saplings and bracken, snug wrapped in my blankets deep in the forest. I had slept well; nothing could've disturbed me from my slumber.

I had tethered Typhon to a nearby tree outside the shelter. As I scrambled out of the narrow entrance to the lean-to, he whinnied at me, impatient for his breakfast. I ignored him. My interests lay with my own breakfast.

Stumbling off into the forest, I quickly grubbed up some wild blackberries and strawberries and swallowed them down with a crust of bread from my saddlebags. I washed them down with slightly warm water from my waterskin, and wiped my mouth with my sleeve. I mashed some more berries for Typhon and mixed them with oats. He ate them with relish and looked greedily for more; whilst I sat down to think.

Where could I go?

To the inhabited West; to the cruel South; to the wild North. These were my choices.

East was obviously impossible, because Cair Paravel and Susan lay to the East.

West was too far, and too risky. Too many people that could give information away, not knowing that they had betrayed their High King.

South was unlikely, because relations between Narnia and Calormen were still uneasy at the best of times. I didn't know if Archenland could hide me, but I would hate to beg King Lune for help.

That left one option: North.

North would hide me.

Ettinsmoor was so vast, so desolately uninhabited that I could hide out there for as long as I choose. It would be dangerous, but what wasn't?

Anyway, I rather liked the idea of the wild, untamed North. It was far more exciting than Cair Paravel.

****

"_Susan...Susan, come hither to me...Come..." _

Susan the Gentle stirred from her sleep as her name was whispered softly by an unseen voice. She slowly sat up in her luxurious canopied bed, trying to concentrate on the warm welcoming voice that was calling her name.

"_Queen Susan, come to me...Susan, my dear...Come..."_

As if one hypnotised, she slid out of bed, and letting the bed covers fall from her linen clad form, she drifted over to the door. Her mind was filled with a sort of pink, cloying fog that blotted out all normalities, all common sense. All she could think of was the voice, the voice that was leading her outside to the gardens that overlooked Castle Town.

"_Susan...Come to me, child..."_

Soon, Susan's sleepy feet had taken her out from the many winding corridors through the Great Hall and into the gardens.

She stopped. Her head cleared.

A chill breeze filled the previously warm night. The dryads in their trees moaned and shivered. The darkness of the sky clouded over, hiding the moon and the stars. It dropped to freezing.

Susan clutched her thin nightgown around her body, her teeth chattering. What was happening?

Cliff hangerrrrrr!

So, so sorry it took so long to update.

Sorry it's a bit short, too ;D

I seem to be apologising a lot in this A/N :')

Anyway, next chapter coming soon. I mean it.

~pearlsofweird 3


	11. Chapter 11

I was a few days into my journey now, and me and Typhon had quickly became accustomed to living rough. We rode slowly through the countryside, admiring Narnia in the height of summer. Every so often, we came across small villages, which would welcome us heartily and give us hospitality and the provisions that we needed. I felt honoured with the friendly kindnesses that seemed to come so easily to these salt-of-the-earth rustics.

However – I knew this happy, relaxed manner of living would soon become hard and dangerous. Indeed, as we ventured further north, the nights got colder and colder, and the villages far in between and unfriendly. I had to hunt for myself, whilst trying to make my provisions last. Poor Typhon had to forage for grass on the barren moors.

As I set up camp every night I began to wonder if coming north really had been a good idea. It wasn't the beautiful moors I had imagined; even in summer, they emitted an uncharitable, harsh look. I dreaded to think what they would be like in winter.

I began to fantasize about the warm south, or the populated west. I remembered the bright blue cornflowers swaying in the balmy breezes, the golden fields of hay. I thought of Narnia in the fruitful bounty of summer and I missed it.

Instead of doing the sensible thing and returning to the welcoming south, I persevered in my adventure north. _I had come this far, I might as well carry on. At least until it gets really bad, _I thought. I mean, I had defeated far worse enemies than geography and climate.

After a while of very slowly making my way north, I realised the already steep landscape was becoming immensely difficult to traverse. Sparse thickets of wind-beaten gorse dotted across the weathered, precipitous moor; in the midday (when the fog that accompanied the dawn had burnt off) I could see mountains in the near horizon.

Finally, finally, I was reaching the Far North.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Lucy sighed. "Edmund, I really miss Peter."

She threw herself theatrically onto a chaise lounge, her face turned to the ceiling.

Edmund, looking out of the window to the west, leaned on the window sill and silently agreed. He had had no idea that Peter had it in him to run away from home so dramatically.

And in the back of his mind, he had a niggling idea that it was his fault that Peter had left.

"Yes, Luce, so do I." He replied.

"And I can't believe he put me in charge!" - Here Lucy sat up and stared at Edmund – "I don't even know what I'm doing! Susan's hardly helping, because she doesn't want to "usurp the crown" as she put it – you're still recovering, so I'm probably not even allowed to be talking to you about this – and all the fat old men keep trying to advise me in patronising manners!" Lucy crossed her arms and pouted.

Edmund chuckled at her. He found her rants amusingly sweet.

"You'll have to become accustomed, Luce. There's nothing we can do but try and help you."

"But...it's so _boring_!" She exclaimed. "And half the time nobody even tells me what's happening."

Edmund turned to face her and crossed his arms passively. "Then take charge. Make them tell you what's happening. You're the one Pete left in charge, so take the authority."

Lucy, lying down again, turned her head to face him.

"You think so?" she asked.

Edmund nodded. "That's what I'd do. Prove myself to them; show them that I am fit to rule the country."

Lucy grinned at her older brother. He had told her what she needed to hear, and now she leapt up and enfolded him in a massive bear hug.

"Thank you, Ed!" she exclaimed.

Edmund laughed and hugged his sister back.

"Anything, Luce. Anything at all. Now, I reckon it's late enough. There will be plenty of time in the morning to discuss everything properly."

"Alright, Ed. See you in the morning." Her skirts dancing around her, Queen Lucy left Edmund's chamber for her own.

Edmund turned back to the balcony. It seemed to be getting colder. Freezing, in fact.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Susan." A rich, velvet voice danced around her. It seemed familiar; in a vague fashion, she recognised it, although slowly, it seemed like a glass veil was being drawn over her consciousness and what was actually happening. She had a foreboding sense of déjà vu.

"Susan..." Again, the voice came. She whirled around, desperate to find the source of the noise. Recognition flooded back to her faintly – it had something to do with their coronation...

"Susan, Queen of Narnia, look at me."

Hang on – was that...?

"_Aslan_?"

Susan stood, totally confused, freezing cold and waited for the Lion to reassure her that she wasn't completely delusional.

"Yes, child. It is me. I am here, to help you."

"Help me, Aslan?" Susan turned and came face-to-face with the Lion's golden eyes. "What do I need help with? Is something wrong?"

Aslan gave a short laugh (is that possible with cats?) as if laughing at her naivety. "Susan – have you forgotten our agreement?"

For the second time, Susan was wholly bewildered. What was Aslan on about?

Then, an insidious trickle of ice-cold realisation wound through her heart. They _had_ spoken lately, hadn't they? Now, what had they been talking about...?

Ah. Yes, that.

"Peter." She whispered.

"Yes." Aslan started to prowl around her, circling her. He looked faintly uneasy, as if he couldn't bear to be there. "What else?"

"Our plan."

The words were just there. She didn't think them, didn't mean to say them – but she had to. Parts of half-remembered conversation floated through Susan's mind, conversations she remembered having; but ones she didn't outright recall. They had a glassy, shiny quality to them; as if they weren't real, almost. But they had to be, didn't they? They couldn't've just appeared from the depths of her imagination, surely.

"Yes, child – now explain the plan to me again."

Our plan...

"Using my power as a monarch, I will use my power to bring Peter back to you." Yes, there it was. She could remember practically all of their previous conversation now (it was trickling back as slowly as treacle, but still, at least it was there) and none of it made sense. But...that didn't matter. Aslan asked her to do it, so she did it. There was no questioning it. The consequences didn't matter.

Susan's head was swimming. She couldn't move her limbs. She felt numb from the inside out.

"Good." Aslan's voice turned cold. "Now go back. You have proved yourself useful this far by sending out search parties. You will be rewarded." With that – he vanished, leaving Susan in a fog of confusion and obedience.

She twisted around and trudged back to her chambers. She slept, knowing nothing of what just happened.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

There you go! An update at last.

I'm sorry for not updating, but I have to revise for my dreaded Maths GCSE. Wish me luck :S

Question: Can any of my reviewers draw? PM if you can.

~pearlsofweird ;D 3


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